They Are Gone

 

This morning I walked into the lounge of our building. On the white board was the drawing above. As soon as I saw it I broke out in a huge smile. Some student (probably a few students) erased that white board and left that adorable penguin there for us. I don’t even know which kid(s) it was — there are so many it could have been — but that simple gesture just warmed my heart and soul. Man, do I ever love these students. They knew that the kids and me would get a kick out of that… and they were right.

The past two weeks have been Final Exams at Lehigh. Which means 24×7 quiet hours in the dorms. Which means our family has been working extremely hard, round-the-clock, to be quiet and respectful of the hours-upon-hours-upon-hours that our neighbors have been in full-blown-final-exam-studying-lock-down-crunch-time mode. Every day when I’ve walked into that lounge, and looked at that white board, I’ve seen stuff like this:

But not today. So, yes, that cute little penguin was a nice parting gift for us. And a symbol that Finals are over, another semester down, another milestone reached.

Once they finish their last exam, the students have 24 hours to vacate their residence hall. So, slowly, over the course of the past few days, they’ve been leaving for winter break. Some make it a point to come and say goodbye to us. Some give the bambinos little holiday gifts. Some just quietly leave without saying a word. Some are happy to go home. Some are anxious about it. Some dread it and wish they could stay. For a few of them our family is the closest thing to a family that they’ve ever experienced. They tell me about how they’ll miss Dash and they tell me about what they’re facing at home and they tell me that they already can’t wait for spring semester to begin. At the same time, they’re exhausted from Finals, and they desperately need some relief. It hurts my heart to think about it.

We miss them when they are gone. Everything is so eerily empty and creepily quiet around here. Campus is deserted. You’d think it would be fun for us to have it all to ourselves. And in some small ways it is (we don’t have to shush our kids to be quiet during quiet hours, we don’t have to worry about bothering anyone, the bambinos can just leave their toys strewn about in the halls, and it is kind of nice to have a break from the non-stop social part of our life in residence). But in the big ways — the ways that really matter — it is sad to have the students gone. They are our living community, and their presence is what makes our home such a dynamic, rich, and lively one. With the students gone, it just doesn’t even feel like home. Isn’t that strange?

By 9am this morning they were supposed to have all left. Some push it to the last minute, and have flights that depart mid-morning, or are still packing their cars up as slow as can possibly be. So when I left this morning there were still some stragglers. I returned from some meetings early this afternoon, and sure enough, the parking lot was completely empty and the entire place was devoid of people. The silence was heavy. I felt a little lump in my throat as I walked into our deserted building. They are gone. And they are missed.